the errol wrap-up: origin prep

May 23rd, 2011

Happy Origin season, Errol-ers! It’s pretty much our favourite time of the year … well, aside from the week when they start releasing naked charity calendars just before Christmas. Is there anything funnier than dudes posing naked while looking serious? No, no there is not. Please see here for proof. And just like we do during Pervy Calendar-mas, this week we will be celebrating hard.

Next to the legalised on field brawls, the best thing about Origin is the fact other NSWelshpeople start sledging Queenslanders as much as we do in our regular lives. Retweeting people burning Queensland and it’s residents never gets old. EVER! It’s eternally awesome like Freddy Fittler’s is-he-drunk-or-what sideline giggles. Also, people create Facebook groups like this:The only good thing to come out of Queensland is a road to NSW

Luckily for us, even though we now have full time jobs in sport (we know, we can’t believe people hired us either) our jobs don’t require us to do any work at Origin. This is mainly because no one wants us too close to the Queensland team in case we kick someone in the shins by “accident”, injure a maroons player and start an inter-state incident. Also, employing lawyers to deal with the restraining orders is more expensive than you’d think.

This also gives us plenty of time during Origin season to drive around with the windows down sledging people in maroon clothing. IF QUEENSLAND’S SO GOOD WHAT ARE YA DOING DOWN HERE?

But let’s talk Origin prep.

For one thing, we have not one, but two, sky blue nailpolishes to choose from on Wednesday. At the moment, we’re thinking we’ll put the decision off until Wednesday morning to make sure we pick the one that matches our outfit best.

And up in Queensland, the enemy have been preparing for the big match at Lang Park (Suncorp, WHATEVER. It’ll always be Lang Park to us) by … grapevining?

It’s not just us, that is a grapevine, right? Cause it looks uncannily like the arm movements Intern John John does when he’s “feeling fat” and wants to burn extra calories on his trips to the work kitchen. We see you Dane Nielsen! Don’t pretend you don’t love it!

And of course Johnathan Thurston is loving it sick. If there’s one thing we learnt on the footy show last week, it’s that JT loves nothing more than a spontaneous dance break. Remember this? Yep, that boy is good at three things: dancin’, playin’ footy, and standin’ with his mouth open. He’s already done two of those this week, and if our plans to drop an anvil on him tomorrow at the Maroons team hotel come off, he won’t be doing the third.

We’re thinking of painting a picture of Dave Williams on it as a pin-up girl, you know, like the bomber planes in WWII. And next to him it’ll say like “… this is for kicking me in the face, Johnny!”

Sammy’s got his own personalised program from the Queensland personal trainer: tone up without losing your curves!

You know who you don’t see in those photos, though? Cooper Cronk. That fierce bitch is nowhere to be seen, and surprisingly, it’s not because he’s busy having his nails filed into points for the big game or telling noisy teens on public transport to ZIP IT.

And even though Billy Slater’s been doing his best to channel the Fierce, we still noticed.

twitpic courtesy of Luttsy

When you think about it, it’s pretty obvious really. While Billy does his best Cooper Cronk impression (see how he tucked his shirt in! it’s all about the styling), the real thing has clearly put his foot down and refused to have any part in this team-photo plaid-shirt boot-scooting uniform fuckery. We all know he’s a well-dressed dude, and apparently he cares not for taking part in group activities where the outfits make you look like you should be handing out menus and refilling empty Coke glasses, saying “welcome to the Outback Steakhouse”.

But while the Queenslanders have been preparing for some kind of boot-scooting Origin face-off (bad choice, by the way, NSW would totally win. We have TAMWORTH, y’all) the Blues have been getting their James Bond on.

Gregg Porteous’ photos don’t lie:

Follow him on twitter here

Look how schmick they look! As our hero Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock always says, “you’ve got to dress for success!”. Followed by: “That’s why I sponsor a charity that gives away tuxedos to homeless people”. What a dude. Our boys are bringing the sexy back to Origin. Mainly, because of the sweet suiting. But also because they all have tiny locks of Matt Cooper’s ratstail sewn inside their suits.

And to all the people who suspect that the Blues can’t match the Maroons in sweet dancin’ moves, we say:

a) have you MET Akuila Uate? If you have, he was probably dancing at the time. He’s like rugby league’s answer to Seaweed from Hairspray.

and b) Jamie Soward can angry dance the hell out of the music in his head. Exhibit A:

We’re feeling pretty damn confident that when it comes to the dance-off portion of this year’s Origin (crew againzt crew! No rulez! Street-style!) the boys in blue will do us proud.

Oh, also, when it comes to the game. How do we know this? Because Kiki – and this is a direct quote – feels it in her waters. Which is EXACTLY what Glenn Lazarus said, too. You can’t argue with a skinny-legged blogger and the man they call the brick with eyes. Up the blues!

Pics. Getty Images

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footy observations: sassy’s worst week ever

March 24th, 2011

Well this week has been truly, truly terrible. Not exaggerating, it was worse than the day I discovered that Peter Everett was leaving Ready Steady Cook. NO! PETER! Remember the good times we had recapping his adventures in gropery with Sam Burgess and Robbie Farah? Sigh. I wonder what he’s doing now. Probably sitting at home watching Elizabeth Taylor documentaries and eating chicken crimpies straight from the box.

No, this is much, much worse. Readers, I tipped two out of eight. TWO. Which means that while our shiny Errol leaderboard for people who are vaguely competent and tip more than TWO in a round looks a little something like this:

… and that’s right, my name is nowhere to be seen on it. Where am I, you might ask?

OH THERE I AM. FOUND MY NAME. JUST CHILLIN’ DOWN AT NUMBER 60. Yep, number 60. This means I’m doing worse at footy tipping than Lifeguard Hoppo. And no offence to Hoppo, because he saves drowning Irish backpackers and is tre hilarious and has lovely blue eyes and we generally adore him, but, well … this shit is dire. Hoppo is approximately 70 years old and it’s a miracle he can even use the internet so the fact that he is beating me at tipping is terrible and cannot be allowed to continue.

Bottom line? I blame the Sharks. Clearly that Shane Flanagan is an olive-skinned supercoach. The Sharks out-defended, out-controlled, out-patienced and out-Dragonsed the Dragons. Except, you know, that the Dragons don’t have a carpark that doubles as a swamp and needs to be closed when it’s raining heavily and mother nature requires it back to use as a water catchment. I assume that’s what the recent renovations at WIN Jubilee were adding.

Coincidentally, Wade Graham has clearly been on some kind of Dragons and Jamie Soward-inspired regime because if you dressed the two of them in red and yellow they are both straight-up nuggets.

Mmmm … nuggets.

What was my point? Oh yes, remember when Wade Graham was just a teeny blue-eyed teen making his debut alongside Lachlan Coote? And Lachie was on his way to being awarded his Boy Scout patch for Irish Dancing?

Pic. Getty Images

They grow up so damn fast. Now Lachie’s doing business studies and Wade’s just one more off-season away from having a rig as big as Paul Gallen’s.

More importantly, remember when the Roosters played good footy? As in … LAST WEEK? The memory seems as distant as the memory of Jarrod Mullen playing Origin. (Funnily enough, the memory of Jarrod Mullen bending over in front of me at a charity golf day two years ago is still as clear as crystal. Gotta thank your mother for a butt like that).

What we’ve learned is that a Gidley-less Newcastle is successful, the Cowboys are still capable of being more dreadful than your wildest dreams, and this season, no team is invincible.

The closest we’ve got is the Melbourne Storm, led by the fiercest bitch in league, Cooper Cronk.

Pic. Getty Images

See how Cam Smith is smiling in joy and celebration? Meanwhile Cooper Cronk is:

a) making a mental note to pick up some hair product on the way home;

b) figuring out exactly how he can kneecap Jonathan Thurston and steal his State of Origin halfback jersey without attracting the attention of the cops.

Here’s a hint, Coops: do it with a crutch in a Brisbane casino and everyone will just assume it was JT’s own fault.

So, bearing in mind how unpredictable footy is this year, here are our ridiculous predictions for round three:

Souths, those lucklass japesters, will win a match. Sassy will then declare her love for Greg Inglis, despite him being a Queenslander.

Braith Anasta will compliment the refs on their fine and reasonable decision-making.

Feleti Mateo will make spot-on offloads and set up three tries.

Peter Everett will join the footy show.


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a quick note to cooper cronk

November 16th, 2010

You all know rugby league is our one true love. But dammit we’re only human. Remember last year when I may or may not have spent a good five days ranting on twitter about the many reasons to love Chris Gayle? Like, for instance, the fact that he’s both incredibly talented, and frequently fuck-off lazy? Every time he scores a lightning-fast century then just … gives up and gets out, my heart skips a beat. WHATEVS BITCHES, I SCORED A TON OFF TWELVE BALLS IN TWENTY MINUTES. I THINK I’VE PROVED MY POINT.

Pic. Getty Images

Well, cricket season is back, and that fierce bitch is fiercer than ever. He might even be scoring three hundred against Sri Lanka on my tv right now. Yep, someone must really have insulted him this time if he’s bothering to rack up a triple-century.Maybe it’s to make them regret booting him as Captain. Maybe he just feels like being especially awesome today. Who knows.

The main thing is that if rugby league wants to keep us interested, maybe it needs to up its game.

Cooper Cronk, yes I am looking at you. Maybe you should consider a white microfibre do-rag, a cheeky grin and some diamond studs?

Just sayin.

Love, Sassy.

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footy observations: melbourne cup style

November 2nd, 2010

You will all be SHOCKED to know that the Errol girls weren’t invited to any marquees for Melbourne Cup this year. No Birdcage, no Emirates VIP section, no Myer tent. Nothing. We were invited to the Maroubra Bay Hotel for their special day via SMS, but were sadly unable to attend. Apparently Rob ‘Millsy’ Mills is good enough for Flemington but we aren’t. And that pretty much sums up our lives.

Luckily, we … um, well we kind of don’t like the races. We want to like the races: all the mental images of gorgeous men in grey morning suits buying you champagne and sitting on white wrought iron furniture, maybe horrifying some of the more traditional and genteel folk by wearing a skirt above the knee.

Our eternal thanks to the Daily Telegraph and their intrepid photographers for bringing this photo to the world.

But the reality … not quite so charming. It’s all bogans in flammable suits and Oakleys and walking spray tans getting their heels wedged in the grass. Why would we overpay to go to the races in the middle of the day when we could just get pissed with bogans at the greyhound races, after dark, on solid cement ground, wearing whatever we want?

It makes no sense! It’s nonsense!

We do have one thing to thank the horse races for: they invited the Australian Kangaroos to the drawing of the barriers and it was the few moments in the whole of this four nations tournament to make us smile (apart from Bodene Thompson in general, rrrrawr).

If you can look at Cameron Smith playing a horse-riding video game and not laugh, then you may well be dead inside.

Isn’t it sweet that, since he never actually made it as a jockey, they let Billy Slater hold the fancy-schmancy number hats? HE LOOKS SO HAPPY.

Although, on second thoughts, it’s possible that it doesn’t take much at all to make Billy Slater happy. He also looks happy while crushing England’s spirits:

Catching footballs:

AND playing water polo like a joyful spaniel:

In fact, the only thing he doesn’t look happy doing is practising his Broadway high kicks. This is not a surprise, because high kicks are serious goddamn business. You mess that up? Someone loses an eye. YOU WANNA END UP WEARING AN EYE-PATCH, KIDS? DO YA?

Wait, what was my point? I got all distracted doing a kick-ball-change holding an imaginary tophat.

I think it was that the Four Nations game between the Kangas and England was straight up depressing, despite Tom Learoyd-Lahrs sporting a hilarious 90s Backstreet Boy-esque moustache. And it wasn’t just because of rain-related fumbles or the completely INSANE video ref decisions, or even the fact that we all knew Australia was going to smash it in. This poor little English backs had nothin’ against the Australians.

(Wonder if England ever stops and despairs that every time they invent a sport and export it to the colonies, the colonials end up being better at it.)

It’s just not fun seeing Australia play that far below their best. It’s not a spectacle, is it? There was a decided lack of magic. And Luke Lewis played out of his skin but that doesn’t help us now he’s injured. All we have left is Fierce Bitch Cooper Cronk, who also got some shit done on Sunday night.


And if you’re feeling a little tipsy, tired, or just plain blue, we would like to recommend you head over to the England Rugby League site and watch their video summary of the four nations team hosting a skills and drill day for schoolkids in Eden Park in New Zealand.

Tony Clubb saying “I’m still young” when he is clearly 45 in human years? Every man and his dog making fun of Luke Robinson for being tiny like a tiny teddy? Sam Burgess getting squirted in the ear with water by what I’m 99% sure is Robbie Farah? IT’S CHAMPAGNE TELEVISION.

Now bring on Australia vs New Zealand. Team Kiwi!

All Kangaroos pics: Getty Images

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the oh errol awards 2010: results time

October 22nd, 2010

You guys, we don’t even know what to say. These last two weeks have been, just … a crazy ride, you know? We’ve never done this kind of public vote before. We were confused and excited and to be honest we had no idea how all this would turn out, and now we’ve seen the results? They’re .. overwhelming. It’s been the BEST ERROL AWARDS EVER. And there’s no way we could’ve done it alone. You guys and your literally thousands of votes made all of this possible. You’re our inspiration, our heart. We want to thank you all. And of course, we want to thank our “friend, Ben Affleck“.

Now, while we’re busy pulling up our ill-fitting pink dresses, why don’t you check out the winners?


Well apparently we’re starting with a landslide, kids. Sorry Badge and Sheensy, but Carty romped this one in with a 63% share of the vote. In honour of his award, he will receive a package direct from Errol HQ containing a voucher for some salt and pepper highlights at his local hairdresser.


Apparently Cooper Cronk has a stranglehold on this like Matt Cooper has a monopoly on the title Hot Bitch. Unfortunately he wasn’t able to be here to collect his award in person, but he sent this short message for you all to enjoy.


We can’t lie, this was a close ballot. Flossy just edged out Shaun Kenny-Dowall in an intense kiwi bettle. Un the ind, Flossy came out vuctorious. We like to think this is also a victory for New Zealand in general, because “you are where you come from”. Or something.


Or, as the Papua New Guineans call him: MattGillett MattGillett! MattGillett got almost half the votes, and as a special gift from us to commemorate this moment, MattGillett will receive a gift pack containing 42 schmackos and a Kong filled with peanut butter. Who’s a good boy MattGillett?


Do you know what Prince Scotty the Caramel was up to when we told him he was a winner? Yep, as you can tell from that there photo, he was napping. We’re 99% sure there’s actually some drool in the corner of his mouth there. No judgment, though, Princey. GOD KNOWS YOU DOESN’T HAVE TO BE AWAKE AND CONSCIOUS AND TRAINING FOR ANYTHING. Poor overlooked Scotty. We hope this award does a little to numb the pain of being the most overlooked halfback in league … just. A few more votes and this could’ve been Hornbag’s instead.

Because we don’t want them to feel left out, all three nominees for the Mr Cellophane Award will be receiving a handwritten card signed by all the Errol staff that says ‘you’re special’ on the front.

Now, who’s hosting the after-party?

Pics. Matt Gillett by Kiki, the rest via Getty Images

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the oh errol awards 2010: the fierce bitch award

October 14th, 2010

Day four, and shit is getting tense in the Errol office. This is the second last Oh Errol award we’re putting up for 2010 and it’s also the meanest. It’s actually the only category in which we can imagine the nominees cutting each other. It’s kind of awesome that way. This, friends, is the Fierce Bitch Award for the Fiercest Bitch in League. Catchy name, huh?

Before you say anything, no IT DOESN’T MEAN THEY’RE GAY. Being a fierce bitch is gender and homo neutral. Angie Harmon is a fierce bitch. Samuel L. Jackson is a fierce bitch. Surprisingly, Meryl Streep is a fierce bitch. Clint Eastwood is a fierce bitch. So is Barack Obama and the Rock and Robert Downey Jr. It’s like being a baller, but with ever-so-slightly more menace.

The easiest way to figure out if someone fits the category of fierce bitch is to put their name in the sentence “It’s Britney … bitch”. If you can imagine them saying it without laughing yourself into hyperventilation, then they are one.

And that sentence pretty much sums up why we love all of these nominees.


Never ever mess with a man who owns a schnitzel restaurant. Because:

a) then you won’t get any free schnitzel …. mmmmm schnitzel. Also:

b) that motherfucker has a mean uppercut. Just ask Anthony Watts.

Robbie Farah can pull off a tape headband, berate a referee, cook pizza, milk a penalty without blinking and poke your eye out with his visible nipples. He’s a machine of awesome. It’s Robbie Farah … bitch.


Surely this doesn’t even need an explanation. He’s Manu. He weighs 400 kilos and runs like a cannon. He has two gold teeth and doesn’t need a mouthguard. He’s Manu … bitch.


Lastly, the man who inspired this award. Before he took over the Storm Captaincy last year and said those magic words: “Zip it Anthony … ZIP IT”, we didn’t even know footy players could be fierce bitches.

No one bitches out a ref with as much passion as Cooper Cronk (well, maybe Jonathan Thurston, but that doesn’t count if you then get investigated for it). If you’re reading Cooper, we would really like it if you could come down to Errol HQ in the off-season and take over dealing with all of our outstanding debtors and conflict resolution.

He could wear a Madonna-style headset and answer the phone “it’s Cooper Cronk … bitch”.

Now vote, before one of them grabs you by the ear and tells you to zip it.

Pics. Getty Images

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footy observations: romance and pantslessness go so well together

July 29th, 2010

Well someone from the Melbourne Storm’s just become the most popular girl in school!

But first, let’s cover the breaking news stories of the day: Firstly, the Cronulla Sharks continue to win at life. Secondly, FACEBOOK IS EVIL. Apparently the police have warned the footy community that people might steal their identitiez on the interwebs, and Penrith have even banned Facebook and Twitter. Can I just say if they want anyone to travel around with Nigel Vagana and teach the boys how to be safe on the net (BE SAFE KIDS!), they should just send us. We’ll just slap them on the hands with rulers and yell MAKE YOUR FACEBOOK PRIVATE AND DON’T ADD RANDOMS. Done and done.

Now back to the breaking up of the Melbourne Big Four.

Now it’s a given in most people’s minds that, after the whole salary cap debacle, at least one of the Melbourne Storm’s Big Four will have to leave the loving embrace of Globo Gym. It’s just maths … right?

And no, I won’t call them the ‘Fab Four’. When did we start using that phrase? It makes Cooper Cronk, Cam Smith, Billy Slater and GI sound like a reincarnation of the Fab Five on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. This is patently ridiculous, because Cam Smith can’t cut hair, and even Carson Kressley is nowhere near as fierce as Fierce Bitch Cooper Cronk.

I rest my case.

I much prefer calling them the ‘Big Four’. It makes it sound like other clubs are hunting them down for sport, like big game hunters in Africa trying to bag the big five of African animals.

What was my point? I got distracted imagining Greg Inglis with a rhinoceros horn.

Oh right, competition is heating up between the NRL clubs to sort out who gets to take Greg Inglis home. Melbourne don’t want to let him go, plus the Broncos and the Titans both want him. But bitches better watch out, because someone new has stepped into the ring.

…. me? Really? He wants me?
pic. Getty Images

Oh yes, Russell Crowe wants GI for the Souths’ backline.

“He wants him bad,” a source close to Inglis said. “I’m not sure if it will happen but Russell will do what he can to get him there.”

HOW ARE THE OTHER TEAM OWNERS MEANT TO COMPETE WITH AN OSCAR WINNER? Not only does he have blue eyes like a husky and a voice as majestic as the Snowy Mountains, he also has a country estate AND he’s friends with Snoop Dogg. And according to the Tele, Rusty is ready to ‘wine and dine’ Greg, make some conversation about books and movies, order the second most expensive wine on the menu, and order the lobster for him in a chivalrous fashion until GI gives in and signs with the Rabbitohs. And by ‘signs with the Rabbitohs’, clearly I mean ‘takes his pants off’.

GI has since denied the whole story, but …. he would, wouldn’t he? This is Russell Crowe, after all. For all we know his phone calls have caveats of silence on them, like the CIA.

And our advice to GI is to play hard to get. That way hopefully he gets more play dates with Rusty. Genius, right? That’s what we’d do, anyway. Remember Rusty’s gladiator thumb (at the game where his Rabbitohs crushed my Roosters)? That was AWESOME. Russell is pretty much our favourite human ever, which is why we always defend him vehemently against the Fire Up! boys and hope to one day be loaded enough to follow his example and own our own footy teams. If Greg plays his cards right he could live our dream of being Russell’s bestie.

And if Sam Burgess is reading – who am I kidding, he totally is – don’t worry babe! We’re sure he still cares about you, too! When he took you to that movie set last year and told you Souths needed you, and only you, he totally meant it. He really does think your accent is adorable, and that you have a great tan and a beautiful smile. He just wants the freedom to see other people as well, you know?

And on the topic of pantslessness: remember last year when the Tigers had some kind of club-wide reading group going? The one where you could totally tell that Tim Moltzen was reading Sophie Kinsella’s ‘Confessions of a Shopaholic’? Good times.

Well this year, it seems like the Tigers have moved on from encouraging kids to read good, and moved onto spreading the gospel of pantslessness. Now THIS is something everyone at Errol HQ can get behind. Heh, behind. We totally support the Tigers’ efforts to end the tyranny of pants!

Nips Farah tries to start a locker-room pants off revolution ….

… and Chris Lawrence takes it to the set of the Footy Show.

We love the Tigers’ Crusade against Pants almost as much as we love the news that JAMAL HAS HIS FIRST ACTING JOB. Not only is he gonna be on the Footy Show, he’ll have a guest spot on ‘Cops’ with Gary Sweet. Congratulations, Jamal baby! Our dream of seeing Jamal remake ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ is getting closer and closer every day.

Now why don’t you take off your pants and tell us where you think GI will end up?

Thanks to the awesome Cronkster and Smithyman for the caps!

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man-kissing, hot chips and adventures in canberra

June 13th, 2010

Well, that was an eventful few weeks. We leave the internet for 10 days and all hell breaks loose.

What was meant to happen in the last week was this: we would head down to our nation’s capital for the Raiders vs Titans, do a little bit of work, relax a little, maybe hit up Questacon or ride bikes around Lake Burley-Griffin, and head home. Then we’d do some typey-typey for some new projects we’re working on and come back to Errol as if nothing had happened.


In the interim league went fucking insane. First Billy Slater and Jarryd Hayne got involved in a Melbourne vs Parramatta headbutt spite-fest at Parramatta Stadium. This, as we all know led to the Gayest Fight in Football History.

No, we don’t mean ‘gay’ as a derogatory term. We love gays. We mean it literally. Fierce bitch Cooper Cronk was not having any of this, and ran in to protect his fullback Billy Slater. Have you seen his face? We wouldn’t want anyone headbutting it either. He’s adorable. So far, so logical.

We saw Cooper running in … then Cooper diving onto Headbutt Hayne, and then ….

ARE THEY MAKING OUT? (yes, we did actually yell that at the tv).

Apparently the internet was equally confused/amused, because a complete genius came up with this:

Oh internet, how we love you.

We also especially enjoyed when Cam Smith gave the world a lesson in sportsmanship. First he yelled at the ref “WE CAN’T WIN THE PREMIERSHIP, WHO CARES WHAT WE DO?” He then threw an Errol-worthy tantrum and quit that whole shit.

Can’t win? Don’t try.

We can’t wait till that image is used in motivational posters in offices all over Melbourne.

And, of course, the tension resulted in two of the prettiest boys in history to ever share the sin-bin: Dan Dan Mortimer and Billy Slater. Surely people that pretty don’t belong in the bin? Evidently Billy agrees, because bitch was pissed.

The dramas didn’t stop at Parra vs Storm, though. There have feelingz happening all over the NRL. At Brookie, injury is taking it’s toll on Dave Williams. The man that … well, people who aren’t us like to call ‘the Wolfman’, is not dealing well with being a sideline fixture.

We interviewed Daveypants 2 weeks ago for the NRL and he seems so, so sad. His poor little arm is still in a sling and he is the saddest panda of all pandas in history. It took all our strength not to hug him.

It’s no suprise he has turned to comfort eating. Specifically, comfort eating chips on the sideline. The saddest part of all was when he offered one to Jamie Lyon and was brutally rebuffed. WAY TO MAKE HIM FEEL LIKE A PIG, JAMIE.

Meanwhile we were down in the Nation’s capital hustling and getting ready to watch the Raiders vs Titans. In a moment of perfect timing by the universe, we needed to interview the baby Raiders AND Titan’s coach John Cartwright. So on Sunday morning we headed off the pick up Carty and take him for a coffee and a chat. The only problem? Literally NOTHING is open in Canberra at 9.30am in Canberra.

What the hell, ACT? It was like a nuclear apocalypse took place and no one told us.

Not even WANGS massage was open, although at least it gave us a few lolz.

In the end, intrepid Carty led us into a food court, to find a tiny tiny window called the House of Vitality. Kiki ordered a diet coke, to which Carty said “a Diet Coke? …. for breakfast? Shouldn’t you at least have a normal coke for nutritional value?”

Kiki’s only answer was SHUT UP I’M HUNGOVER. She ordered the Diet Coke anyway.

What’s more glamorous than doing an interview with an NRL coach in a food court? Pretty much nothing. For reals.

Next stop was Bruce Stadium for Raiders vs Titans. For Sydney girls, going to Bruce Stadium is so … so weird. Actually, Canberra is weird to us. It’s all organised, and tidy, and convenient. All the suburbs have different names, but they’re only like two blocks apart and EVERYTHING IS SO CHEAP.

Two voddies and a beer for $12? $5 parking at the footy? $13 for a pizza and two Diet Cokes? Yes, please. It’s developing world prices without all the pesky airline travel and vaccinations.

As we drove into the Bruce Stadium carpark a friendly dude pointed out that Sassy’s bonnet was askew and maybe not closed properly. When she admitted it was just wonky from her bad driving, he came out with I HIT A KANGAROO ONCE. IT’S HEAD POPPED RIGHT OFF. I KILLED IT, BY THE WAY. Oh, Canberra. Nothing cheers us up like an animal decapitation story. Turns out it really did make Sassy feel better about her driving.

That, and a stadium with seats close enough to hear the OOF when two men tackles.

Wait, make that a decapitation, Bruce Stadium, and our new bestie in the next row down.

We asked Josh McCrone about this: “… definitely from Queanbeyan. He’s probably Campo’s neighbour”.

Then as a farewell to the ‘Berra, we met a few of the baby Raiders for interviews after recovery on Monday: Jarrod Croker, Daniel Vidot, Josh McCrone and Shaun Fensom. WE ARE IN LOVE. Four of the most hilarious, humble footy players you’ll meet (if you ignore Dan Vidot’s love for a glamorous self-portrait. He really, really loves them. Especially if they involve shirtlessness, which is fair enough. Have you seen him? He’s a total spunk).

McCrone and Crokes – actually all the boys really – are fucking hilarious. Shaun Fensom managed to burn Kiki within ten seconds of meeting her. We like his hustle. We also especially enjoyed Croker and Vidot taking the piss out of each other about their Adventures in Hair Highlights.

Apologies to the boys for springing it ON TAPE that some of them are gay icons, and to Shaun Fensom in particular for Kiki stroking his pretty hair like a massive creep. The trickiest part was convincing them to have their photos taken to go with the story – Dan Vidot only wanted pre-approved images that he’d had taken earlier included in the mag. He’s so J.Lo. We loves him

And Crokes was traumatised because his hair looked ‘shit’ (it didn’t, it looked messy and cute…bed hair!), he hadn’t shaved, and his shorts were soaking wet. “But I’ve got a beard! Can’t you come back another day and take them?”


But probably the highlight of our trip was telling Trevor Thurling of the huge section of his fan base who refer to him as Trevor “Sex Machine” Thurling.

According to google, this is what a Sex Machine looks like:

Trevor, is that you?

This story led to us hearing Shaun Fensom utter the words “yeah, I lived with a family when I first got here, now I live with Sex Machine”. Awesome.

Try not to die waiting, but the story will be out in the next issue of Rugby League Player mag. and in the meantime, here’s a picture of Josh McCrone being a hilarious human and posing comically in front of a palm tree. So awesome. Doesn’t he look like Prince Harry? He totally looks like Prince Harry. Till next time kittens! xx

Big thanks to our favourite media manager and one of our favourite humans, Ben Pollack, for hooking us up the whole weekend. And thankyou to the boys for being generally awesome. WE LOVE YOU RAIDERS!

Thanks to the brilliant Cronkster for the caps. LEGEND!

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origin 2010: maroon is such an unfortunate colour

May 19th, 2010

Since we met the blues boys yesterday, I guess it’s only “fair” and “reasonable” that we talk about the Queensland Origin team. And like most things that are fair, it will be unpleasant. Like sharing shit with your brothers and sisters, and giving people back their lost wallets and cash if you find them. Boo fairness.

Here they are in all their maroon glory:

Billy Slater

Darius Boyd

Greg Inglis

Willie Tonga

Israel Folau

Darren Lockyer (c)

Johnathan Thurston

Matthew Scott

Cameron Smith

Petero Civoniceva

Nate Myles

Sam Thaiday

Ashley Harrison


Cooper Cronk

David Shillington

Neville Costigan

David Taylor


Well of course he is. If you’ve won four series, don’t fix it, right? And the other regular things are the same too. Billy Slater’s at fullback, Peter Civoniciva now has 200 rings around his trunk but is still the starting prop, and Neville Costigan is on the bench instead of on the field. Poor Neville. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. At least it’s a step up from 18th man, no? At this rate he’ll be a starting second-rower before I die.

As for you Darius Boyd – I was starting to … tolerate you this year. Out of the Broncos maroon Boyd started to run at the line at fullback, even PASS the ball to set up tries, and I almost said nice things about him. Needless to say, the truce is off. YOU’RE GOING DOWN, BOYD. Mark my words (and Timana’s hands).


OH HAY! Our favourite footy field-marshal is FINALLY in the maroons team. Fuck it that he’s on the interchange bench, he’s finally there. All those minutes in 2009 spent waiting for someone to suffer a game-ending injury in training so that he could take off his 18th man rags and run on the field. Finally, the Cronk’s time has come! Much as I hate the maroons, I’m a teeny tiny bit excited that Cooper Cronk’s special brand of bossiness is gonna be on the sideline at ANZ. Mock me if you must.


Of course the big question is if Cameron Smith’s elbow will heal up in time for the first Origin game. Which is actually the perfect way to find out what we’ve been wondering for so long: are the Melbourne Storm man or machine? It’s simple. If he’s ruled out and Matt Ballin steps in, he’s human and may live. If he heals up, we have definitive proof he’s a cyborg, and he needs to be reprogrammed into a benevolent baker before he conquers the world.


Aaaah yes. There he is. Right there in the centres, most hated of all maroons. I’m looking at you, Greg Inglis. And before anyone says anything, yes I know under the rules he can play for Queensland. And no, I will never ever get over this. You know why?

It’s not ABOUT who the rules say he can play for. This is State of Origin. The whole point is passion. The passion for where you come from, and the blind momentary passionate hate for whoever comes from somewhere else. Call it footy xenophobia. Sweet, sweet footy xenophobia. And you can’t have both.

It’s not like the touchy-feely world cup business where you can feel Australian and Fijian. Nuh-uh. You can only love one State and it’s compulsory to hate the other one.

You certainly, definitely can’t spend 16 years living in NSW until you all of a sudden play seniors and join the Maroons. TREACHERY! At least if the rest of the team yells ‘QUEENSLANDER’ like Billy Moore, I know they’re committed to their horrible, horrible team. And I feel compassion for them, because I am saintly and serene and loving like Jesus, and because they were brainwashed from birth and clearly had no choice. But no sympathy for Greg Inglis! He chose darkness and there’s no excuse for that.

So spill it – do we think Queensland can make it five in a row? We say oh hell no. These are desperate times and we believe in our blues. But either way, I’m calling Sam Thaiday as the danger man. He’s skinnier and meaner than before and he’s going to tear shit down.

Weaknesses? I don’t know how to feel about Dave Taylor. He could be a wrecking ball, but he could also be a complete an absolute menace. He’s an unknown quantity, no?

The only other good thing I can think of to say about this team is that Ben Te’o is 18th man. I just really like saying his name. Ben T’aaay’oh.

Thoughts, rants, poems of love?

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four nations recap: … I've had a little bit to drink

November 9th, 2009

“It’s just been a weird night … and I’ve had a little bit to drink.”

So here’s the disclaimer: I went to Ladyhawke on Saturday night, and despite being Super Responsible and leaving the pub (I know, amazing right?) at well-maybe-a-little-bit-after-midnight like Cinderella, I was … well, look I was drunk when I watched this. Basically, I take no responsibility for being overexcited or imagining shit. But I think it’s more important to focus on the fact that I left a pub while it was still dark. That’s a massive achievement for me, JUST SO YOU KNOW.

To start with, is it wrong to say that I’m a bit in love with the British League commentators? Cause I am. No, not for their comical accents. Those bitches are insightful. They care about the important things: like explaining to the general European public that back in Australia Robbie Farah has a kebab named after him, but DON’T WORRY GUYS, IT’S A HEALTHY KEBAB! IT HAS CHICKEN AND VEGETABLES IN IT AND EVERYTHING.

God forbid anyone in the United Kingdom mistakenly think that Robbie Farah and his visible abs are schilling for some greasy obesity-inducing second-rate kebab. The commentary team are all about accuracy.

Well, all about accuracy … and historical lolz. After explaining in great detail that Northern Frenchies don’t play league because league was one of the things – along with freedom and equality – that Hitler cared not for, they start calling the French defence ‘the resistance’. It’s funny cause it means two things! *slaps knee*

These people? Yep, defenders of freedom and rugby league fans.

Meanwhile if you ever get heckled by rugby union fans for liking league, you can always ask whether they know that the Nazi collaborators and Vichy government in WWII France banned league and promoted union. Yes, people will think you’re a massive loser, but better that than a union follower, right? WE’RE THE RESISTANCE, BITCHES.

It also makes me happy to know that there are other nerds out there if the commentary team ever stumble onto Errol and read our footy posts from last year, they will totally enjoy Kiki’s jokes about Winston Churchill and Stalin and the Cronulla Sharks.

As for the game: not gonna lie, the Aussies didn’t live up to their potential as a team (and the Frenchies agree) but I care not. They had moustaches, and they entertained me, and that’s what counts.

So let’s talk about the Aussie boys.


Um, you know it’s true. No sooner had I pointed out that Cooper Cronk has one of the greatest moustaches in league history and reminds us of a latter-day 40-20 kicking Errol Flynn:

… really? I look that good?

Than he’s all up in the French’s business filling in for Thurston and Lockyer and generally being awesome. Sure, I’d had about six voddies, but I could still tell that the team looked way better in the second half when Cooper came off the bench. IT’S ALL IN THE MO, DARLINGS.


And if Cooper’s lucky charm is a mo, then Robbie Farah’s is his headband. Remember way back in July when Robbie Farah rocked the tape headband and got his punch on with Anthony Watts?

Well from what he told us at the Kangaroos media call before the boys left, he’s … well he’s kinda proud. He also promised us that he’d bring back the headband as a rugby league look. After all, there’s nothing more Tigers than a tape headband, is there? Even Wayne Pearce knows the answer to that question.

Anyway, we’re pleased to observe that HE TOTALLY DID. Bitch is a man of his word! And there is no way you will ever convince me he didn’t tape himself up as an act of generosity and charity purely to entertain the Errol girls.

Although I do kinda wonder if Robbie just reserves the tape for special occasions, like when he punches on in the scrum, or when he’s going to appear in the starting Kangaroos team on international television. I say it’s no coincidence that Robbie rocked the shit out of the elastoplast in Paris just as he got his start as hooker, right?


Meanwhile, as Robbie stepped in at dummy half, Cam Smith rested it up and discussed history with Brett White in the stands.

(Apparently Cam Smith totally enjoys history, by the way. That wasn’t just me projecting. I read it on the internet so you know it’s true).

French background dude does not appreciate Movember.

Don’t those handlebar moustaches just make you proud to be Australian? I love knowing I’m from a country that thought, you know what will do wonders for men’s health issues? Facial hair.

And with their schmick green Aussie blazers, I love that the touring Kangaroos kind of look like they’re on tour in Paris in 1975. Devils on horseback, anyone? Maybe a prawn cocktail?

I’m actually a bit offended that the Frenchie in the expensive-looking chocolate brown leather jacket in the background is looking so judgy and unimpressed by Cam Smith and Brett White and their handlebar efforts. IT’S CALLED MOVEMBER. IT’S FOR CHARITY. GOOGLE IT.

… but French background dude does find Anthony Watmough hilarious.

Meanwhile if you look in the foreground, NRL media manager David ‘D.T.’Taylor is kicking Movember’s ass with his mo, too. AMAZING WORK DAVE!

When the camera panned to the crowd during the game I almost spat out my diet coke in shock/joy, because Spotting D.T. is one of my favourite footy past times. It might even be better than my other favourite footy past time: ‘picking jobs for Nathan Hindmarsh’s kids’ (I’ll explain that one another time).

Wherever there are NRL players, there has to be an NRL media manager. So spotting D.T is like playing Where’s Wally – he has to be there somewhere, it’s just a question of where.

Exhibit A:


You get extra points in this game if you manage to find a pic where he’s standing in the background looking sort of like a creep.


I don’t know if I should mention it but we totally called it! As predicted, the Mozzie twins were a double-act of awesome against the French, racking up two tries each for a total of four. Four tries for their country? Shit is ridiculous!

I actually think while I was watching the game, when the commentators reminded us all they scored four, I may have yelled out FOUR FOR YOU GLEN COCO, YOU GO GLEN COCO!  Apologies to my neighbours. (Except the one who practises the flute every weeknight. They deserve it for annoying the hell out of me).

Clearly the French were dazzled by the Mozzie’s long long Bambi legs, super-speed, and general twinniness, those adorable over-achieving bastards.

Best of all? THE MOZZIES SLEDGE EACH OTHER. As they raced each other to ground a kick for a try I am 100% sure I saw B.Moz mocking J.Moz. And when he scored a second try, he made the international sibling expression for – HAH!

It’s all scratched knees and sibling rivalry in the Morris house

See? I have a brother and I totally make that face too. It’s a universal expression loosely translated as ‘I WIN!’ The only thing better was that when J.Moz got his first try on the board, he celebrated by getting caught on camera first giving an ‘I love you’ shout out to his family back home, then saying ‘thank fuck for that’. Bless.


So the English shocked everyone by beating the Kiwis (I’d fallen asleep by this point), giving them the chance to play the Kangaroos in the final on the weekend. Allegedly Tim Sheens has told his team the gloves are off, and if anyone plays dirty, they should give it back. JUST DON’T HIT THE MOZZIES. THEY’RE TOO CUTE FOR VIOLENCE!


Have you sponsored the Kangaroos yet? WELL HAVE YOU? You know you want to:


All pictures Getty Images

Screen caps by the amazing Cronkster, who’s on holiday in Fiji right now. HAVE FUN DARLING!

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